Chapter 18

Eighteen

Thick green carpet absorbed the steady sound of Cassie's pacing. The blush of dawn painted the bare tree limbs in the park at Berkeley Square a pinkish orange, and on every turn at the window, she paused to observe the coming daylight.

She'd gone to bed several hours ago but had barely slept. After Grant left the study, Hugh had been gentlemanly enough not to mention what he and Mrs. Carrigan had so obviously interrupted. Cassie's lips had felt distended, and her flush had been so thorough, her palm had been like ice when she'd pressed it to her hot cheek. Wholly out of sorts, she'd bid the viscount a distracted goodnight and followed the housekeeper to an upstairs room.

A maid waiting for her there had efficiently removed her gown and dressed her in a borrowed nightrail; one of Audrey's, to be sure. When Cassie had finally been alone, she'd perched at the edge of the tester bed and put her trembling fingers to her lips.

She'd still been able to feel Grant's mouth, his bruising kisses, and the ardent, nearly desperate kneading of his hands. Her skin prickled where he'd touched, and where he hadn't, there was a hollow ache. A few times now, Cassie had wanted him to kiss her, and when he hadn't, she'd imagined what it might have been like. However, none of her imaginings measured up to the reality. In the study, when he'd crushed her to him, he'd seared her with a fire inside him, one he'd barely been holding in check.

It hadn't been anything close to what she'd felt with Renfry. With him, her mind had been spinning during his kisses, thoughts and doubts and questions all swarming. But under Grant's mouth, only one word had filled her head: more.

At Hope House, some of the women had spoken plainly about the pleasures of coupling. There seemed to be a consensus among them that they were often made weak by it. Cassie hadn't understood, not truly, considering her wholly unpleasant first—and only—experience. But now, after Grant's kiss, when her sole desire had been for his hands to touch more of her, his mouth to stay on hers… How different might the act of lovemaking be with someone as skilled as Grant?

She stopped at the window overlooking the square and gripped the embrasure. Her pulse picked up speed and a fine sweat bloomed on her neck and back. Thank providence things ended the way they had. She couldn't afford to be made weak-minded. With Renfry, she'd allowed passion to dictate her actions—though not her own passion. Her concern had been for Renfry's pleasure. His passion. Pleasing him. She'd been so consumed with giving Renfry what he desired and thus ensuring her place as his wife, that nothing else had mattered.

But with Grant's devouring kisses and impatient hands practically incinerating her, pleasure was all that had mattered. Cassie released the embrasure and touched her lips again. If Grant's kisses alone could affect her so thoroughly, she wondered what spending the night in his arms would do to her.

She whisked her hand from her mouth and curled it into a ball. Stop. What was she thinking? In a fortnight or two, Grant Thornton would have no more use for her. They were only spending time together because of the ruse, and because he'd coerced her to do so! And yet, she'd still become a willing lump of desire in his arms. Where was her bloody backbone?

Grant Thornton was a Lothario, and everyone knew it. Of course she had become a thoughtless puddle of need—he was well practiced in making women turn into them.

Their argument last night had merely stoked their tempers and with their blood high, things had gotten out of hand. It didn't mean anything. It certainly didn't to Grant.

Gripped by sudden restlessness, Cassie rung for a maid. Though it was still early, the staff would be awake and preparing for the day. She needed to dress and go home. Grosvenor Square was so close, she could see the rooftops of its houses from the guest room window. Mr. Youngdale might have followed her home, but by the light of day, she didn't feel nearly as afraid as she had after seeing that coach slowly roll past her own. She was safe, while Isabel wasn't. There was work to do if they were going to find her.

The maid came to help her back into her gown, already having freshened it, and she was bringing up Cassie's hair when Audrey knocked upon the guest room door.

"Tell me you're not leaving already. I thought we'd take breakfast together."

Cassie sat still as the maid pinned her hair and avoided making direct eye contact in the mirror with her former sister-in-law. Surely, Hugh had told her what he suspected happened in the study.

"I'm not very hungry, and I should return to let my staff know I am safe. Thank you for allowing me to stay the night."

Audrey came to stand near the maid. Several beats of silence passed. Finally, Cassie gave in. She looked into the mirror, and the viscountess's brow arched with mischief.

"That will be all, Ann, thank you," she said, dismissing the servant after the last pin was placed.

Cassie sighed as the maid left. "Hugh told you."

Audrey moved to a set of chairs near the fireplace. She appeared more tired than usual as she sat, and Cassie suddenly felt guilty for having imposed on them last night.

"He suspected that Grant may have…" She waved a hand. Cassie spun around in her chair to face her.

"He kissed me." The confession sent a surge of unexpected trembling down her arms and up her back. Thinking about it was one thing; speaking of it was another entirely.

In her chair, Audrey sat up a bit taller. "You gave him permission to do so?"

Briefly, Cassie recalled parting her lips and welcoming the thrust of his tongue. She'd moaned against his mouth, and while she'd at first been humiliated at making the involuntary sound, it had only seemed to make Grant clutch her more possessively.

She nodded. "I did."

The viscountess blinked a few times and seemed at a loss for words. Though only for a moment. True to her style, Audrey got right to the point. "So then these courtship rumors are true?"

A spate of panic cinched Cassie's throat. As close as she was with Audrey, she couldn't tell her about Grant's scheme to put off his father's demands, or his threat to expose her involvement with Hope House if she did not go along with it. Not only would it reveal Cassie's secret life, but it would cast Grant in an awful light. And well it should! Gracious, had she lost all her wits? The man was a reprobate for intimidating her into this entire fiasco. If he'd simply turned a blind eye to what he'd found at Hope House when he'd come to treat Dorie, none of this would have happened. Instead, he'd found a way to manipulate the situation to his benefit. Good lord, why had she allowed him to kiss her?

And despite everything, why did she so desperately want him to do it again?

Cassie shifted in her seat, then stood up. "I don't know."

It was a pathetic answer, and Audrey's stern look said as much.

"Do you have feelings for him?" she asked. "Real feelings, I mean."

Cassie frowned. "As opposed to false feelings?"

Did Audrey suspect something about the courtship ruse?

The viscountess stood, and though she was no taller than Cassie, she possessed a forbidding conviction. "No, as opposed to girlish infatuation. Years ago, before Hugh and I married, I suspected that you might have an interest in Grant."

"I thought him handsome, yes," Cassie said. "But all he had to do was speak a few times and I found I loathed him more."

He'd been arrogant and sarcastic. Just being near him had set her nerves tingling with irritation. It wasn't much different these days, only her tingling nerves now stemmed from something else altogether.

Audrey gave her an indulgent smile. "Yes, loathing was what it appeared to be. You certainly pushed him away with an abrasiveness you didn't implement with anyone else."

"What are you saying?"

"You put up walls around yourself whenever he was near," she answered readily.

Cassie shrugged. "He was infuriating."

"I understand completely," Audrey said with a laugh. "Hugh drove me mad when I first met him. Everything he did and said would anger me. There was a reason why, but it was one I didn't want to understand, so I chose not to."

When Audrey met Hugh, she'd been married to Cassie's oldest brother, Philip, the Duke of Fournier. While away in France, he'd drowned, and after a year of mourning, Audrey had accepted Hugh's offer of marriage. Of course, Cassie knew that her former sister-in-law's feelings for the Bow Street officer had developed long before her mourning ended. In fact, she'd suspected they had begun even before Philip's death.

The viscountess's expression turned solemn, and she looked to her hands, folded in front of her. "I was quick to anger because I wanted to protect myself from what I was feeling for Hugh. I wanted to keep him at a distance, and antagonism is an excellent way to do that."

Cassie nodded. What Audrey said made sense, and she had to admit that whenever she and Grant argued, it gave her a reason to walk away. It was the moments when she could find no fault in him, like at Church Street after his thoughtful handling of Amir, and last night, when he'd apologized and then made her laugh, that she felt in danger of liking him too much. Because if she admitted to liking him a little, what was to stop her from liking him more than that?

"I told him everything," she said. "About Renfry. About the baby."

And he had not pushed her away. He'd shown compassion, not judgment.

Audrey nodded. "Because you trust him."

But how could she? It was utterly foolish. She'd been a fool before with Renfry, and she'd paid an awful price for it.

Cassie shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I've proven to be a terrible judge of character before. Now, I really must go."

She started for the door, eager to be gone. Audrey's long exhalation was audible, but she didn't say anything more as she followed Cassie and summoned a carriage to bring her back the short distance to Grosvenor Square. The viscountess held up a hand at her assertion that she could reach home on foot faster than it would take for a carriage to be prepared for her. She gave in and had tea with Audrey while waiting for Carrigan to come around the front of the residence. No more talk of Grant ensued, thank goodness, though she could see that Audrey was still thoughtful about him.

Once at home, Cassie informed her small staff that they were to continue being cautious, but that there was likely no immediate danger. After bathing, her sleepless night sneaked up on her and she couldn't keep her eyes open. She slept until noon. Almost as soon as she opened her eyes, foggy from sleep, the question of why Mr. Youngdale would have followed her carriage was waiting for her. Proper sleep seemed to have returned her priorities.

Grant suggested he might want revenge for scarring his face, but she wasn't convinced. If he had Isabel back in his clutches, what was he doing out at Duke's? Why had he spent time following Cassie, when he could have been with Isabel, forcing her to marry him?

Around two o'clock, she summoned Patrick. She'd sent a message to Elyse the evening before, informing her of Isabel's disappearance from Church Street, but now wanted to be at Hope House, if only to distract herself. Ever since Grant had come to the safe house as Dr. Brown and discovered her there, she'd started to feel the divide between her two lives more keenly. Not to mention everything involving Grant and his scheme had occupied more of her time and energy. She needed to get back to what she'd been doing before and reorganize her priorities.

"Milady," the footman, Pierce, said as she entered the foyer to make her way out front. He presented a bouquet of hot house flowers, a small card inserted between the green stems and foliage. With some reluctance, she took the card and read it:

Dinner Monday night at Lindstrom House. I'll fetch you at six.

A barb of dread partnered with a tremor of anticipation. She could not think of anything she would like to do less than attend a dinner with Grant's father. And yet at the same time, the thought of seeing Grant again stirred the phantom pressure of his lips against hers, the greedy clutch of his arms, and the hard muscle of his abdomen when her hands had slipped to his waist.

She gritted her teeth and pocketed the note. If she'd thought for one moment that the physician would wake up with a change of heart about his scheme, she'd been proven wrong. The courtship was still to play out.